


His Passion

by Weeoograntaire



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tears, idek, sorta?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weeoograntaire/pseuds/Weeoograntaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and his struggle to find peace in a world where the thing he needs the most is no longer there.</p>
<p>Italics = Flashback o:</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Passion

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song “Samson” by the lovely Regina Spektor.  
> I'm terribly sorry for the grammar issues,  
> ...story is better than the summary, i think..

Love. Grantaire thought bitterly.  


It's not red, or pink, it's grey. Grey and hard, like cement. Cement with lots of cracks and breaks and signs that it's not permanent. 

Grantaire glared at the green bottle in his hand as he thought, before downing the remaining contents and placing it down on the hardwood floor.  


He scowled as he continued to work on his newest painting. That night had started out like all the others, with a dimly lit room and plenty of alcohol to keep him company until dawn. But it became clear early on that this night wasn't going to be like the others. Tonight, Grantaire could not find his familiar sanctuary that came when he drank. Tonight, Grantaire could not become numb to what had happened in his life, or to what awaited him in his life. Thinking of his past sent searing pain through Grantaire's chest. It brought him to his knees. And he didn't need any of that tonight.  


So he had started painting, for the first time in weeks. He was supposed to be painting to distract himself from his own thoughts, but it seemed to be having the opposite effect. Grantaire stepped back and studied his painting carefully. All his emotions were laid out on the canvas. Together they formed a landscape. Shades of lonely blue made a sky. Watery grey strokes of despair covered the bottom. Clouds of black guilt hung low and menacing.  


Grantaire tensed as his eyes focused on the centre of the piece. A flash of deep red, surrounded by long, golden wisps. He sighed shakily and closed his eyes. He shouldn't have let his heart overpower his mind. He shouldn't torture himself like this. He shouldn't be thinking about the thing that hurt him the most.  


The golden wisps, the angelic halo of curls, that's what killed him every time. That's what always brought him straight back to the day his world was changed forever. The day he met Enjolras.

 

_Grantaire stumbled out of the bar, the smell of brandy heavy on his breath. He shivered at the sudden wetness falling on him, and quickly zipped his forest green jacket up to keep out the chill. He leaned against the bar's door to try and sort out his clouded thoughts._  


_Grantaire closed his eyes to concentrate. He was in the middle of trying to determine which direction his apartment was when a voice jolted him back to reality._  


_“Excuse me.” the voice asked quietly._  


_Grantaire opened his eyes, and widened them almost instantaneously. Standing before him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen._  


_He was looking right at Grantaire. His eyes were piercing blue. Not pale and bland like Grantaire's own eyes, but fierce and full of fire. They were set off by thin, dark lashes and perfectly curved brows. Grantaire scanned the rest of his face. His cheekbones were high and dazzling. His pale lips looked like they had been sculpted by God himself. His smooth, porcelain skin was like the canvas to a glorious piece of art. Grantaire had never felt so out of breathe in all his life._  


_The man, this God of a man, cleared his throat impatiently. Grantaire blinked slowly. He stepped aside to let him pass. The man hurried in through the doors, leaving Grantaire to stare with wonder at the back of his head._  


_And what a magnificent sight it was._  


_His hair looked like strands of pure gold. It cascaded down past his neck just slightly. The raindrops clinging to the ends looked like crystals. Grantaire felt a powerful urge to reach over and run his fingers through the golden locks. But the man moved on quickly, shutting the door behind him and leaving Grantaire standing breathlessly outside._  


_Grantaire was stunned. How could there be someone so perfect? How could it be possible for someone to leave such a mark on himself? Who was this man? What was his name? Grantaire wanted to know. No. Grantaire needed to know._  


_Grantaire strode forward, opened the door, and stepped back inside the bar._

 

“That was the day I fell in love with him.” Grantaire whispered to himself.

 

_Grantaire burst through the doors, his eyes already scanning for any sign of the man. He spotted him on the stairway near the centre of the bar. Grantaire cautiously followed him to the top level, and found himself entering the middle of a heated debate._  


_“Enjolras!” someone called out. “Glad you could make it.”_  


_Enjolras. Enjolras. Grantaire let the name roll around on his tongue. He tried to hide his smile as he said the name over and over again in his head_   


_Grantaire looked up at a sudden yell of frustration. Two men were debating loudly about something Grantaire didn't know, nor really care about. _  
__

_Grantaire only cared for Enjolras, and after fifteen minutes with him, Grantaire learned there was so much more to love about the man, besides his beautiful hair._  


_As soon as he entered the room, Enjolras had took a stance in the centre of the room and began to speak. He spoke with such wisdom, that Grantaire felt intelligent by just being near him. He was extremely charismatic- when he spoke, it seemed like everyone in the room was nodding their heads in approval. His passion seeped out of him like blood._  


_The passion that Grantaire so severely lacked. Grantaire was not easily convinced about anything, but this man had changed that. His passion made Grantaire believe, perhaps not in what he spoke so passionately about, but his passion made Grantaire believe in Enjolras, and that was all that mattered._

 

“That's what did it.” Grantaire whispered out loud once again. “I fell first for his hair, but fell truly for his passion.”  


Passion. Grantaire looked back at his painting and frowned thoughtfully. The painting was pain. It needed something else, something good. Passion. That's what was missing from his painting. Grantaire grabbed his brush and carefully dipped it in a jar of deep red paint. He made large, passionate gashes at the centre of the painting. They looked like flames of burning desire. Grantaire was pleased with how it turned out.  


Grantaire stepped back to survey the art once again. All Grantaire could focus on now were the passionate red lines. It needed something calm to contrast the red. Grantaire loved contrast. Opposites shown together always made for an interesting piece. And contrast was what him and Enjolras were all about, right?  


“Stop.” Grantaire said firmly. He needed to block Enjolras out, not let him crawl back inside his brain. Grantaire pulled his hair absently, deep in his creative ideas. He needed something calm and cool, but still bright enough to stand out amongst the red.  


Grantaire glanced out the window up at the night sky alight with stars.  


“That's it!” he exclaimed. A dim light against the fire. Stars were the contrast he needed. Grantaire reached for a thinner brush, eager to channel his idea to his art, but stopped short.  


A memory surfaced. Stars. Twinkling above him. Above both of them.  


No, he didn't need this. Grantaire desperately tried to block it out. But once something so powerful and full of love finds its way into your mind, it is nearly impossible to ignore.

 

_It had been three years since Grantaire had first seen the golden-haired God, and now, here he was, walking close beside Grantaire through the dimly lit streets of the city._  


_Grantaire thought back to that fateful night._  


_Grantaire had realized soon after he had met Enjolras and followed him into the bar that he would never be the same. He felt so whole being near Enjolras. Grantaire knew he wouldn't be able to function if he never saw Enjolras again. So the same time the following week, he had showed up at the bar, praying to a God he didn’t believe in that his angel would be there. And amazingly, he did show._  


_Grantaire had once again followed him upstairs. Much like the time before, Enjolras had walked to take his place at the front of the room. Grantaire lingered hesitantly at entrance, unsure if he should go inside, but a tall man with sandy hair was beckoning him inside, so he had slowly walked over to the empty seat at the table, feeling very out of place in the room of idealists_.  


_Now, three years later, it was the only place where he felt like he truly belonged._  


_Grantaire glanced at Enjolras, who was walking with his head down, obviously avoiding eye contact with Grantaire. Grantaire frowned. Tonight had been like any other of the nights they spent together. Enjolras had spoken at length about his newest cause he was fighting for, and Grantaire had sat and drank and listened with the rest of the group. He always listened when Enjolras spoke, even if he didn’t always appear to be doing so._  


_Grantaire tried to think of a reason why Enjolras would be upset with him. Their argument tonight was nothing uncommon. The pair of them always argued. Grantaire told himself he always picked a fight with Enjolras because he liked debates and though Enjolras's ideas were ridiculous, but in all honesty, he did to see Enjolras the way he loved most- full of the passion Grantaire loved so much._  


_So why is he acting like this? Grantaire had no idea. He looked again at Enjolras, who was now frowning intensely, a sign he was deep in thought. Something was definitely bothering him. Grantaire knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing Enjolras was in such a state as this. He slowed and leaned against a lamppost. Enjolras stopped as well, and gave Grantaire a questioning look._  


_“Beautiful night, isn't it?” Grantaire smiled at Enjolras, who did not return the gesture. Enjolras was staring intently at the sky, muttering under his breathe. Grantaire was worried- he had never seen his invincible Enjolras like this._  


_“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked quietly. No response. “Enjolras?” he repeated louder. Still no acknowledgement. “Enjolras!”_  


_Finally, Enjolras turned his head to look at Grantaire._  


_“Is everything..” Grantaire paused before continuing. “Is everything okay?”_  


_Enjolras blinked slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again, shaking his head._  


_“Enjolras, there's obvious-”_  


_“Can I kiss you, Grantaire?” Enjolras interrupted._  


_Grantaire's mouth hung open. He blinked several times before swallowing his surprise, and attempting to compose himself. Grantaire had never felt so stunned in all his life. Enjolras, the man he had loved so deeply for three long years, had just asked to kiss him._  


_Grantaire laughed nervously. Enjolras couldn't be serious. How could he ever think of kissing the obnoxious, unattractive, cynical Grantaire? He looked up slowly to meet Enjolras's eyes, fully expecting him to laugh at Grantaire for actually believing he meant it. Grantaire's eyes widened at Enjolras's expression. It was so unlike Enjolras. He looked so vulnerable, so unsure, yet still so full of passion. Grantaire's heart skipped a beat when he realized that this was the way he always looked at Enjolras. This was the look you'd give someone you.. loved_  


_Grantaire smiled hesitantly. That was all Enjolras needed as an answer._  


_Enjolras leaned in slowly, his gaze never leaving Grantaire's until the moment their lips touched. Grantaire closed his eyes. It was so gentle, so soft, yet so powerful. This was a new kind of passion, and Grantaire loved it. He could stay like this forever. Too soon, Enjolras pulled away to look at Grantaire, who stared back, breathless._  


_Enjolras glanced up at the sky again before speaking._  


_“My father died yesterday.”_  


_"Oh! Oh, Enjolras, I- I'm really sorry. I had no idea that-” Grantaire stuttered. He hadn't expected that kind of response after a kiss._  


_“Let me finish.” he said quietly. Grantaire quieted immediately._  


_“My father died yesterday. Heart attack. Complete shock.” He took a breathe before continuing. “I haven't seen him for two years. We weren't very close.” He ran a hand through his golden curls. “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. All I could think about was my father. I suddenly felt so alone, so guilty, and I couldn't understand why. It took me till morning to figure out why. It was because-” Enjolras sighed deeply. “It was was because I never got to tell him how much I really did love him.”_  


_“Oh, Enjolras.” Grantaire spoke softly. He wanted badly to pull Enjolras close and whisper that it would be okay, but he let him finish._  


_“Now he's gone, and he'll never know how I really felt.” Enjolras closed his eyes. “Nobody's here forever, Grantaire. That's why you've got to tell people how you feel, before it's too late.” Enjolras opened his eyes again and took Grantaire's rough hands in his own._  


_“I'm not making the mistake I made with my father. Grantaire.. I love you.”_  


_Grantaire stared lovingly at Enjolras. Enjolras kept speaking, trying to explain to Grantaire why he had kept his feeling inside for so long, but Grantaire didn't need an explanation. Those three words were enough for him._  


_Grantaire leaned in, cutting off Enjolras's words with his lips. Enjolras only froze for a second before returning the kiss. Grantaire sighed softly and pulled away to look into Enjolras's eyes. His heart fluttered when he saw Enjolras's eyes, full of wonder like his own._  


_Grantaire looked up at the sky and smiled. The stars were dancing above them. Their white light was flashing across the black sky. He pulled Enjolras close again, resting his forehead against Enjolras's. Grantaire knew that he would never forget this moment as long as he lived, the moment that his dreams came true under the watchful eye of the stars._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this.  
> This is the first time I've put any of my work online.. so tell me what you think..? Should I even continue writing this?:3  
> I'm extremely critical of my work, so I'd like some other opinions.. c:


End file.
